Between the Silences
by Austin B
Summary: Daryl stretches himself too thin and Carol worries about him. Fluff - USS Caryl fic contest submission


Carol was worried about him. Ever since Sophia, her eye had drawn more and more to Daryl. She stood by what she'd said to Beth, after he'd left them for a time. He was a good man, despite how hard he tried to hide it, and after all he'd done to look after the group, her and her daughter, he deserved someone to look after him.

So she kept her eye on him. More often than not, he required little. A smile, a joke, a reassuring nod. But other times, like tonight, required actual intervention.

He'd been trading more night watches from Rick on some bullshit excuse that Rick was too weary to call out and when he slept in the early hours of dawn, it was restless.

So, when one of the people from Woodbury gave her an extra couple toothbrushes, she knew she had her segue. She waited until the rest of the group had gone to bed and it was nearly halfway through Daryl's night watch before bringing it up to him. She wasn't quiet on the stairs, to let him know she was coming, so she was surprised to see him leaning on the railing, his chin in one hand, not paying any attention to her. His breathing was deep and slow. He was half asleep, maybe even three-quarters of the way there.

He was going to run himself into the ground if he kept this up. Which was what she was sure he was trying to prevent in Rick, but thought himself less important to the group. Selfless and honorable were probably two words Daryl wouldn't associate with himself, but they were among the first she thought of when she thought of him, which was alarmingly often.

She grinned crookedly as she thought of the best way to wake him without getting an arrow in the eyeball. As she pondered, she looked him up and down, glad for a chance to admire him. He certainly was well-built. He grumbled a little in his half-sleep.

"Deer are fuckin' majestic," he growled, and Carol didn't even have time to stifle it, she burst into boisterous laughter. Daryl started from where he stood and took a stumbling step backward, crossbow halfway raised, until he saw what caused the noise.

"Jesus Christ," he swore, and Carol doubled over, holding onto the watchtower guardrail to keep her feet.

"What the hell's so funny?" Daryl growled crossly.

"You-you were talking. Talking in your-your sleep," Carol managed through giggles.

"I wasn't sleeping," Daryl said scowling, scanning the fields and the edge of the woods quickly before turning back to her.

Carol came back to herself, remembering why she was here. She held out the toothbrush. Daryl just looked at it and looked back at her, raising his eyebrows.

"Got it from Jane from Woodbury. I thought with all the new ladies around, you might want it," she said saucily, still smiling and with laughter still sparkling in her eyes.

She was dangerous when she was like this, Daryl thought warily. He scoffed, but swiped it from her outstretched fist anyway. He knew she remembered the conversation they'd had a few days ago about things they missed from home.

"Yeah I saw Granny Katherine givin' me the eye," he said as he turned away from her. Katherine was one of the eldest members of Woodbury, at 78. Carol laughed again as Daryl stuck his head inside the watchtower and stashed the toothbrush in a shoebox that was sitting on the desk.

"What's that?" Carol asked, peeking around his shoulder.

"Huh?" Daryl skirted away from her, back toward the railing. Out of everyone in the group, he could take the most from Carol, but it was different with her and he could only take so much. He was aware of the way her eyes trailed him, more often now than before, and it made him feel equal parts annoyed because he could take care of himself goddammit and happier than someone watching him should ever make him.

"You keeping your love letters in a shoebox?" Carol said, quirking up an eyebrow.

"Is that what the toothbrush was, a love letter?" Daryl retorted, making Carol grin. He didn't often return her quips, mostly he just blushed and scoffed. Carol couldn't decide which she liked better.

"You oughta go in and sleep. I'll take the rest of your watch," Carol said, leaning into the watchtower office to grab the rifle that was stashed next to the door. On the desk, the shoebox lid was askew and Carol thought she saw the yellow of a kid's rubber duck. He was ever a surprise. She was going to have to find out more about that later. But she'd already pushed far enough, she could tell. She was getting better at reading between his silences.

"Nah, I'm alright," he said dismissively, turning back to the woods.

"Daryl," Carol said softly. He braced himself and though he didn't really want to, he turned to face her. She'd taken a few steps toward him and was close enough to reach out and touch him, which she did now. She tapped her palm against his chest once, but then rested it there, over his sternum. There was a scar there, under his dirty plaid cutoff, under her palm. His daddy had thrown him against the wall when he was 7 and a vase from an end table had sliced 6" across his chest. He'd gotten twelve stitches.

She was looking at her hand where it rested on him. Daryl willed his heartbeat to remain steady, or she'd feel it hammering behind his bones. She was wearing that purple scarf that she liked. The one that framed her face and made her eyes look even brighter. In the moonlight, it was nearly grey, but Daryl remembered when Maggie had brought it back from a run, back when they'd been at relative peace on the farm. He didn't care a lick for any of that stuff, but Carol had smiled so kindly when Maggie handed it silently to her. If she smiled at all back then, it was tight and weary. After all the heartbreak she'd been through, she laughed more nowadays than he'd ever heard her do before.

"You need some sleep," Carol said at last, and Daryl wondered how long they'd stood like that, with him staring at her. She was looking up at him now, and her hand dropped back to her side. The imprint her small, warm hand had made over his scar felt like it had burned a hole in him.

"If you fall asleep up here and tip over the guard rail, nobody's gonna know how to use that crossbow," Carol said with that grin of hers.

"How about tomorrow I'll teach you, then you won't have to worry about me falling to my death," he replied half sarcastically. He knew what she was doing, and while every instinct in his body was screaming at him to shut her down, that she'd leave him and hurt him in the end, the look in her eyes when he teased her right back kept him warm at night.

"I'd like that, but I'll still worry about you," Carol confessed. She stepped further out of his space and leaned against the railing, before he could run away.

"If I go inside, would that make you feel better?" he asked, slinging his crossbow onto his back and mirroring her position leaning against the rail.

"Yes," she said softly.

Without another word, he retrieved his shoebox from the watchtower and made for the stairs. He didn't pause, didn't slow, but on his descent, she heard him say, "Thanks."

* * *

This originated as a contest submission for USS-Caryl on Tumblr. My URL is ileftmyheartin221b if you'd like to check it out and/or follow. :)


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